


a work of art

by oisugasuga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anniversary, Biting, Blood, Hand Jobs, Human Sugawara Koushi, M/M, Mafia Boss Oikawa Tooru, Smut, Tattoos, Vampire Bites, Vampire Oikawa Tooru, Vampires, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 23:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisugasuga/pseuds/oisugasuga
Summary: Silver, everywhere. Leather bracelets studded with silver spikes on Suga’s bony wrists, silver studs and hoops and industrials glinting in his ears, even a sterling silver tongue ring flashing when he speaks. Oikawa swallows hard."Isn’t this going a little too far?" he tries again, but Suga raises a single eyebrow at that, disbelief flashing over his face. The intricate ink of his sleeve tattoos and the ones trailing up his throat clash with the black t-shirt he’s wearing and usually, Oikawa would act on his urge to pull his boyfriend into his arms, to drop kisses down the markings and hitch that thin t-shirt up and off but right now… right now that seems like a very, very bad idea.





	a work of art

" _Babe_ , come on."

 

     Silence. That’s all that greets Oikawa’s words — but underneath it… rustling and boxes shifting and then the quiet creak that he recognizes as the closet door in the room beyond.

 

     He sighs, lets his forehead rest against the solid wood, and ignores the slight ache in his jaw where his teeth want to sharpen in an odd mix of guilt and trepidation. They always pop out at the most inconvenient times — like last week, in that corner store in front of that poor twelve year-old boy who had promptly burst into tears.

 

     "Kou," Oikawa tries again, pleading. "I’m really, really sorry. Can you please come out now?"

 

     He listens underneath all of the other, less important noises that his oversensitive ears pick up on — the croaky hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the scratch of someone’s pet gerbil a few floors up, even the faintest hush of rain coming from miles away.

 

     And in the next second — just as Oikawa hears footsteps and the inhale and exhale of Suga’s breath — the door to their bedroom swings open.

 

     Oikawa blinks. Then his heart gives a nervous little thump.

 

     "Baby," he starts, taking a few cautious steps backwards as he does so, but Suga holds up a hand.

 

     "Save it. I’m not taking them off."

 

     Oikawa pouts. "Seriously? You can’t be that mad…" His voice trails off weakly at the iron glare Suga fixes him with, his honey eyes burning.

 

     But it’s not really the look that has Oikawa worried right now. No, it’s the _accessories_ his boyfriend has just recently put on that are doing that.

 

     Silver, _everywhere_. Leather bracelets studded with silver spikes on Suga’s bony wrists, silver studs and hoops and industrials glinting in his ears, even a sterling silver tongue ring flashing when he speaks. Oikawa swallows hard.

 

     "Isn’t this going a little too far?" he tries again, but Suga raises a single eyebrow at that, disbelief flashing over his face. The intricate ink of his sleeve tattoos and the ones trailing up his throat clash with the black t-shirt he’s wearing and usually, Oikawa would act on his urge to pull his boyfriend into his arms, to drop kisses down the markings and hitch that thin t-shirt up and off but right now… right now that seems like a very, _very_ bad idea. And he knows that it’s exactly why Suga had chosen to take this course of action.

 

     Getting a handful of silver in the middle of trying to seduce his boyfriend out of his anger is a very large turn-off.

 

     " _I’m_ going too far?" Suga asks, shaking his head and then moving past Oikawa — who winces and takes another careful step back to avoid the jewelry — towards the kitchen. " _You’re_ the one who forgot."

 

     Oikawa feels a little surge of guilt pool in his stomach.

 

     He _had_ forgotten about their date tonight… and, to make matters worse, the date had been specifically for their anniversary.

 

     "I know," he admits. "I’m sorry, Kou. I just… you know how it is. I got caught up in today’s work and I swear I remembered it this morning…" He trails after Suga, leaning against a counter, his bare feet quiet on the faded linoleum floor.

 

     Suga doesn’t answer, just focuses on grabbing a mug from the cabinet, reaching up to do so. The hem of his t-shirt rides up, baring a sliver of pale skin at his waist, and Oikawa bites his lip.

 

     Honestly, he doesn’t have a good excuse. Yes, working as an underground, vampire mafia boss had its ups and downs and busy, bloody nights, but Oikawa had specifically cleared tonight from his schedule for his date with Suga. But then there had been a meeting that ran a little longer than expected and then Makki had shown up with news of a deal gone wrong and technically Hajime and Yachi could’ve handled it fine… but Oikawa has always been a little too protective of his fledgelings…

 

     Oikawa sighs, cutting off the rest of his thoughts. Bottom line is that he had messed up.

 

     Suga has his back to him when Oikawa wanders closer, coming as near as he dares to. There’s no silver around Suga’s neck and somewhere in the back of his mind, Oikawa wonders if his boyfriend had done that on purpose or if he’d just forgotten to hang a heavy, metal cross from his throat.

 

     Regardless, it allows Oikawa to reach out a hand, brush tentative fingers over Suga’s nape and the black thorns inked there. "Koushi," he murmurs. "I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve trusted my clan with work and I should’ve shown up. I’m really sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you."

 

     A distant roll of thunder ripples through Oikawa’s ears. He’s bracing himself for Suga to walk away again, holding his breath in his cold lungs, studying the pattern of beauty marks over his lover’s neck and listening to the thud of his heart… and then Suga’s shoulders slump.

 

     Oikawa watches him set the mug down and then fidget with the bracelets on his wrists, unbuckling them and setting them next to the cup. Oikawa can’t help the push of his fangs as they descend a little in happiness.

 

     The earrings go next, clattering on the formica, and finally the silver stud in Suga’s tongue joins the pile.

 

     As soon as it does so, Oikawa is turning his boyfriend around, cupping his face in his hands, kissing him the way he’s been yearning to do since he got home.

 

     Suga melts into him. In an instant the tension between them is gone and contentment blooms in the center of Oikawa’s chest in lieu of a heartbeat.

 

     When they part, Suga frowns just a little, reaches up with a finger to flick Oikawa’s forehead lightly. "We’re gonna get Italian for dinner," he states half-seriously, a little twist to his lips that Oikawa bites back the urge to kiss away.

 

     "Whatever you want," he responds instead. He knows he’ll regret it later — what with all the garlic and all — but he’s sure he can persuade Suga to change his mind between now and then. Actually, he’s positive he can.

 

     A wicked, little grin tilts his mouth up and Suga spots it a second too late.

 

     "Just because -," he begins, but Oikawa doesn’t give him the room to finish. In one, very easy movement — because his lovely, human boyfriend is about as heavy as a feather — Oikawa swoops Suga up into his arms bridal-style.

 

     "Tooru," Suga gasps but Oikawa tilts his head and kisses him quiet, moving as he does so. The bedroom door hits the wall a little too hard in his distraction but Suga doesn’t complain, going lax in Oikawa’s arms and then lying back against the pillows on their bed the moment he’s set down.

 

     "Am I forgiven?" Oikawa drawls, crawling up over Suga’s form on the bed and relishing in the rare flush of blood to Suga’s cheeks, down his neck. He inches his fingers up under Suga’s t-shirt, palms over soft, soft skin and the sharp edge of his boyfriend’s hipbones and then up farther over the arch of his ribcage, and Suga bites his lower lip, inhaling.

 

     "You’re trying to distract me from Italian takeout, aren’t you?"

 

     Oikawa pauses. "If I said yes, would that mean no sex?"

 

     Suga snorts softly, amusement finally dawning in his eyes and he looks out the window to the left. The streetlights catch the tips of his hair and his irises and paint them like fire. His tattoos are like dark, snaking lines of oil over his pale skin in the dimness of the bedroom.

 

     Then he looks back up at Oikawa. 

 

     "You’re forgiven." Suga’s voice is soft as the words leave his mouth. His eyes are bright. Oikawa has never been more in love.

 

     "Finally," he can’t help but sigh and then they’re kissing again. Suga is warm where Oikawa is cold, and his lips taste almost like the cherry-flavored cigarettes he quit smoking ages ago but more like the candy he’s addicted to now. Oikawa pushes him farther down into the mattress and notches a leg in between his boyfriend’s, grinding it up against his crotch.

 

     " _Tooru._ " The name slips from between Suga’s lips on a small, perfect moan. It leaves Oikawa itching, burning, craving more of the noise, the way it always does. 

 

     God, he wants him. He’s always wanted him, ever since he had laid eyes on the silver-haired spitfire working the blackjack table at one of the local casinos.

 

     In response to his name, Oikawa pulls Suga into an upright position, balancing him in his lap without breaking the kiss. His fingers make quick work of the button on Suga’s jeans, the zipper catching for just a moment before it gives.

 

     Suga slips his tongue into Oikawa’s mouth, tangles his fingers harder into Oikawa’s hair and pulls and Oikawa bites back a gasp of his own, arousal shooting quick and sharp through the pit of his stomach as the kisses grow more messy, more rushed in the space of seconds. But he focuses on getting Suga undressed first — the t-shirt is easy to slip up and off, mussing Suga’s hair into a silver, fluffy mess, and then Oikawa’s pushing his boyfriend’s jeans and boxers down over his narrow hips, throwing them onto the floor somewhere after Suga wriggles out of them.

 

     For a second, as Oikawa pulls Suga back towards him, the reckless, burning energy between them slows and stills — just long enough for Oikawa to admire the human being sitting naked in his lap. 

 

     Suga has always seemed like a work of art to him. Not just because of the tattoos decorating the majority of his chest, his arms, neck, shoulders… but because everything Suga does has a trace of beauty in it, somewhere. The slight shake of his hands as he had tapped his cigarette box to take a smoke, the careful flicker of his eyes as he watches the blackjack table for cheaters, the faintest curve of his lips whenever he finds something amusing. All of it, all of the countless moments that only seem like a second to Oikawa and his hundreds of years, somehow fit together like some kind of beautiful painting.

 

     And for right now, all of it is his.

 

     Suga crashes back into him like a train derailing, in the way he does most things. Even in here, in the bedroom, it’s rare to see him let his guard down, rare to see that softness in his eyes the way it had been earlier.

 

     Oikawa doesn’t mind. He knows, sooner or later, that Suga will let the facade drop for longer and longer periods of time with him and he can wait.

 

     Until then, he’s more than happy to comply with this. 

 

     He kisses Suga, keeping pace with the roughness of each one, and digs his fingertips into the sharpness of Suga’s hipbones, reaches down with one hand to wrap his fingers firmly around Suga’s half-hard cock.

 

     Suga moans again then, low and sweet and needy. Oikawa strokes him as best he can with the pre-cum that dribbles from Suga’s head, his normally sharp thoughts turned to static with that one simple sound. 

 

     "God." The word grits out from between Suga’s teeth, his forehead dropping to press into Oikawa’s shoulder when Oikawa strokes his thumb over the top of Suga’s cock, pushes a nail into the slit. "Lube," he pants, shifting to kiss and bite at Oikawa’s neck, sinking his teeth in hard, and finally Oikawa lets himself make a noise, a half-whine crawling up his throat to stain the thick air.

 

     Suga’s voice is intoxicating, the smell of his skin and shampoo more so, and his mouth is insistent as he marks and sucks at Oikawa’s skin. Outside the windows, lightning flashes and then there’s a steady drum of raindrops hitting the glass.

 

     Oikawa’s bottom lip stings as his fangs drop down fully, nicking the skin, his fingers letting go of Suga for a moment to rummage under the thin mattress for the lube they keep there. He finds it, deftly pops the cap open and squeezes some into his palm, warming it up before he touches Suga again.

 

     After that, all he can focus on are the perfect, tiny gasps and moans dripping from Suga’s lips. All he wants is to engrave every piece of his boyfriend into his memory, from the flutter of his long, dark eyelashes to the sight of his flushed cock curved up towards the hollow of his inked stomach. He tugs and pulls at Suga’s cock, working him over fast and hard as Suga’s nails dig into Oikawa’s neck and rake red lines down his back under his t-shirt.

 

     " _Fuck_ ," Suga whines, hips rocking up into Oikawa’s tight grip, his mouth near his ear, hot and wet. Oikawa pushes him back down into the bed, jerking him off and watching greedily as different expressions flash over Suga’s face — pleasure, pain, greed for more and a desperateness that has Oikawa hardening uncomfortably in his jeans.

 

     "Go ahead, love," Oikawa whispers into Suga’s hot, flushed skin, gripping his chin with firm fingers and biting teasingly at his full lower lip with fangs that cut and bleed. "Go ahead and come for me." He can tell how close his boyfriend is, can even sense how hard he’s trying to hold on just that barest bit longer. 

 

     It leaves Oikawa aching to shatter Suga to pieces.

 

     But at the sound of Oikawa’s low, rasping voice and with the tight heat of his hand around his cock, Suga squeezes his eyes shut, his face crumpling like a masterpiece set to fire as he jerks and his hips stutter, cumming hot and sticky all over Oikawa’s fingers.

 

     Oikawa bites him then, no longer able to hold himself back — not when Suga’s face looks like that, his wet mouth parted and his eyes bleary and dark when they crack back open.

 

     His teeth sink easily into the delicate skin between Suga’s neck and shoulder… the same skin that’s already marked, silvery-white scars left behind from past feedings. It had taken a lifetime for Suga to trust Oikawa enough to let him do this. As the bitter, rusty tang of blood blooms on Oikawa’s tongue, he knows, as he’s known for a long time now, that he would’ve waited a million more lifetimes for this. 

 

     And he knows, as he holds his human close and drinks — as he cradles Suga’s warm, sated body to his icy skin — that he would’ve waited a million more for Suga himself.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was inspired by [this prompt](http://oisugasuga.tumblr.com/post/181082709972/iseeavoice-therainbowgorilla-qalaba) and then it kind of spiraled from me wanting to write crack to me writing smut but here you go, I hope you guys enjoy it ヽ（・＿・；)ノ
> 
> \--> [My blog](http://oisugasuga.tumblr.com/)


End file.
